Chapter 14: A Menacing Gaze

Along the way, Dou Dou detected subtle clues. Zhao Weimin led it swiftly forward; at this pace, they would spot signs of the deer before nightfall.

After about two kilometers, Dou Dou suddenly barked ahead and dashed forward on all fours. Soon, it was barking wildly at a snow-covered clearing. Seeing this, Zhao Weimin hurried over.

Sure enough, in the white snow lay a patch of yellow urine. Unlike droppings, urine quickly seeps into the snow. Even yellow urine on snow disappears after a short while. The fact that this patch was still clearly visible indicated recent animal activity nearby.

But just from urine, it was impossible to tell what kind of animal had been there. If it were a fierce beast, that would be disastrous. He quickly signaled for silence, urging Dou Dou to calm down. The dog wagged its tail and settled by his feet.

At this time of year, the Longgang Mountains in Beiling were not just home to herbivores. Hungry bears and Siberian tigers occasionally ventured out to forage. These were all ravenous predators. Encountering any one of them here could be fatal.

Zhao Weimin’s initial excitement vanished, replaced by vigilance as he scanned his surroundings. The Longgang Mountains were not very cold, nor did they suffer harsh winds. Instead, the air was heavy with loneliness, as if life itself had vanished. Now, with unknown dangers lurking nearby, the atmosphere grew even more chilling.

Yet Zhao Weimin, accustomed to all manner of harsh conditions, quickly devised a plan: stand still. Moving blindly in unfamiliar terrain was too risky. It was better to observe and ensure safety before advancing. If they encountered a Siberian tiger or a bear, retreat was the only option. The hunt for deer would have to be postponed.

He lamented his inadequate gear: only a bow with ten arrows, some snares, a borrowed machete from Uncle Zhao’s house, and a small, rather useless hunting knife. With so little equipment, facing a Siberian tiger or a bear head-on was pure fantasy.

Suddenly, the bushes ahead stirred. Dou Dou was about to bark but Zhao Weimin quickly covered its mouth. He hid behind a large pine tree, concealing his silhouette. Peeking out, he focused intently on the dense, thorny thicket, where nothing could be seen clearly.

Then, a massive bear paw brutally swept through the bushes. Seeing it, his heart plunged. His suspicion was confirmed: that urine wasn’t from a deer but from a bear. Fortunately, he had not pressed forward earlier; otherwise, they would have collided with the bear.

No wonder the urine was left so openly; only a top predator like a bear could afford such boldness here. These bears had no natural enemies in these vast mountains—not even the Siberian tiger was a match. And certainly not a lone man.

This bear must have heard Dou Dou’s bark and come to investigate. Luckily, the bear’s namesake was its poor eyesight. Its movements were slow; as long as there was no direct confrontation, escape was possible. But its slowness was relative—once it ran on four legs, no human could outrun it.

Fortunately, the bear and Zhao Weimin were about a hundred meters apart, and the bear likely hadn’t detected him. The bear pushed aside the bushes and emerged, revealing its true form.

At about six feet tall and heavily built, the bear was enormous. Adult male bears weighed between 150 to 350 kilograms, females a bit lighter at 60 to 180 kilograms. This male looked massive, likely over two hundred kilograms.

A single swipe of such a bear’s paw could snap a tree trunk the diameter of a large bowl. One could only imagine the damage it would inflict on a human.

The bear stood in place, scanning its surroundings like a man in a bear’s skin. Local legends in Beiling spoke of bears masquerading as humans, luring lost hunters. Experienced hunters relying only on torches at night could be deceived and pounced upon, devoured alive. The thought sent chills down Zhao Weimin’s spine. This was no ordinary animal but a cunning spirit of the wild.

Perhaps finding nothing amiss, the bear withdrew back into the thicket. Its green-glowing eyes and barbed tongue hinted at long hunger. Seeing this, cold sweat broke out on Zhao Weimin’s back. He had underestimated the bear’s intelligence. It was using the bushes as camouflage, lying in wait.

Had he not noticed early, Dou Dou might have unwittingly led them into the bear’s lair, ending in death. Hunting the deer was no longer feasible; retreat was the only option. Surviving this encounter alone was already lucky.

Resolved, he planned a quiet withdrawal to avoid alarming the bear. But just as he prepared to leave, a sound came from the east. Instinctively, he turned.

To his delight, not far off stood the deer he had tracked for so long—a sika deer nibbling on young camellia shoots. It raised its head occasionally, alert for danger, and used its antlers to prod the snow, as if searching beneath.

The deer seemed oblivious to both him and the bear. It grazed peacefully. The distance between man and deer was close. Slowly drawing near, nocking an arrow, Zhao Weimin felt confident he could kill the deer with a single shot and bring it home.

Yet, not far from the bushes, the bear watched intently. Any noise on Zhao Weimin’s part would summon it instantly. Then, even if he felled the deer, it would only serve as a feast for the bear.

It was a classic case of the mantis stalking the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind. He was the mantis; the bear, the oriole.

He faced a stark choice: fight desperately or abandon the deer placed so tantalizingly before him.